The Power of Words
by TheMoSenOne
Summary: We all know how it unfolded on camera, but how did Lizzie and Darcy really feel offscreen, translated into modern times? One shot. First ever fic. Eek.


**The Power of Words**

**Disclaimer-I do not own any of this. Characters and story property of the wonderful Jane Austen, setting property of the fantastic Hank Green, Bernie Su and group. Thanks for letting me play around ;)**

Inspired by Ashley Clements, who favourited my HBD tweet today! She knows I exist! Which warms a 13 year old girl's heart, let me tell you...

The first time Elizabeth Bennet saw William Darcy, she thought he was pretty cute. And that's an understatement. She thought he was cuter than any guy had a right to actually be.

With his perfect, waving hair, straight nose, and really rather captivating eyes, she was secretly a little pleased when Ellen Gibson threw the bouquet at her, and Stuart the garter at Darcy.

Maybe she would get the chance to know him a little better, and get past his (admittedly prickly) comment earlier.

She didn't tell anyone this little hope, though, because Lizzie had always been kind of private with her emotions. Telling Lydia, Jane and even Char about them made her vulnerable in a way she only wanted to see in any prospective tease-ees.

Anyway. The dance. She'd been a little disdainful of his evident dislike of the area, but he intrigued her a little. Such an eminent person being so reticent in public…maybe there was something to hide. Plus, he was hot.

She could let that stuff slide.

Lizzie Bennet, unwillingly good at carrying conversations, was forced to do that for her first-and the most awkward in the history of the world-dance with William Darcy. But she was used to it, so if he was going to reply so…shyly? She might as well find some laugh-worthy cannon fodder.

Despite his coldness, she decided to give him a little leeway. He couldn't be such great friends with a guy like Bing for nothing, right?

The sacrifices she was prepared to make on his behalf were instantaneously regretted, and henceforth knowledge of them was denied to anyone, including herself, in shame.

What he said stung a little, she had to admit, and embarrassed her on the inside. The way she was going to have given him a chance on account of HIS looks, and then or him to insult hers…it caused a reaction the magnitude of which she hadn't thought she was capable. Shyness became rudeness, captivating became piercing and disapproving.

A mixture of regret, rage and cringing overwhelmed her, and what did she have to do? Walk off and laugh about it with Char. Good recovery, Lizzie. But it was painful.

She was so thoroughly ashamed of being so shallow, and of letting him insult all and sundry without a healthy injection of Lizzie venom tossed back in his face, that she decided to hate him. This, she decided, would be a lesson to learn on sketching people's characters on how they acted, not how they looked.

But bias is never a good thing, and she continued in the same vein of misconstruing everything he said and did to fit her sketchy idea of him.

This shame and regret and anger fuelled her hatred of him, and by the time they met again she had twisted everything to meet her standards. She observed his uncomfortable manner around his family (mostly correctly) as distaste for her family, and knew that it really wasn't her invention, as she subconsciously knew the rest sort of was. But his astuteness in seeing in her family what she, and nobody else in the closed-off neighbourhood did, really made her hate him. The fact he was clever enough…she meant horrible enough…to discern her family's insensibilities was something she really held against him.

That was what caused her fixation, she thought, the fact that he could understand her, and her thoughts, when she merely had to settle for insufficient offences to do the same for him…this was her domain, this is what she was good at.

And so they became permanent ideas. They were true, because she said them. Her vlog. Her rules. Her skills at determining his character.

He proved once more his ability to read her, by telling her that she 'wilfully misunderstood people,' which she then wilfully misunderstood. Though her subconscious screamed at her that what she was doing was what he said she did, and that he really did understand, she only wanted to think of him as a villain. One who insulted her, and her family. One with a 'propensity to hate everyone.'

Like her, really. But she only really hated him.

Caroline fed her dislike too. Agreeing with her, telling her she was totally right…it validated her grudge against him. But she inexplicably felt a little jealous of Caroline's intimacy with him. Why? She told herself it was because she wanted to gather more evidence of his terrible character, but she really knew it was because he seemed to have some good points of conversation. He seemed to be genuinely interesting. He seemed to actually be well informed on some other topic than the rustic sound of speakers and other hipster tendencies.

Yeah, but those darn self-righteous things about him…stupid dork-face. Chanelling Lyd was surprisingly therapeutic…

She continued focussing on his poor points, and any rather pathetic attempts to ingratiate himself with her were rebuffed in the way she told herself she should have done in the first place, and misunderstood. She came away from Netherfield happy in her own self-righteousness, and annoyed even further at Darcy.

And then there was George Wickham.

What could she say about him but that he was charming, ingenuous, sweet, wronged…and worryingly eager to display his incredible body on the internet…drool…?

And that thing about him being wronged…concrete evidence that Darcy's judgement was poor…and she was pretty.

She wouldn't admit to herself that that was what this was all about. Proving him wrong.

Of course, looking back on it in hindsight, she and Will could both agree that he wasn't entirely without blame. He really did have no respect for her family at that point, and not much for her. She really did intrigue him too, with her unconventional snide remarks that he thought were flirting, so used was he to pandering and adoration.

But she wasn't yet blessed with the gift of hindsight. Just the gift of self-awarded moral high ground. And a little real high ground too, the foundations of which he still frequently apologised for.

And so, when he would see her, or ask to see her, her short-lived relationship seemed to prove to her that she was desirable, and that he was wrong-that he was always wrong. But then, so was she-to believe someone on account of mutual hatred of the same guy.

She often looked for some sign of regard for her, but all she found was persistent staring, and then his friend demolished all hope that he might hold respect for her and her family.

The damn robot destroyed Jane's life with Bing!

And in that moment, she knew that she could never prove him wrong, prove herself beautiful, independent, and in no way needing his approval-which she didn't, but knew that it would be nice to have after the wedding. She knew he hated her and her family. Her vitriol was being forced out of her.

Spitting, venomous, rancid words of sheer hated and fury burned their way through her throat, love for Jane and her anger at seeing her darling sister devastated flaring every time she abated, being short of breath, short of words, despite being a veritable thesaurus. Sometimes, her passion could not be contained, and she just wanted to punch something. Something Darcy-shaped. Which, proceeded to step through her door. At EXACTLY the wrong moment.

The look she gave the camera precisely showed the degree to which she was not, at least, indifferent to him.

The words came flowing out, unleashed by the key of shock his confession presented. Her astonishment caused her to think nothing of a polite rejection, but only of an anger-filled one.

Her reaction incited him to a rebuttal, a rude, cruel, offensive one, but one which-to him, at least-showed the degree to which he adored her. Enough to overcome all his inhibitions.

These inhibitions shouldn't have been there, it was true. And they were the only ones she had noticed correctly. But they were so deeply ingrained in him that it was a sign of love to cast them aside.

She didn't recognise this though, her idea of his character being so unreliable that she rejected him vehemently enough for him to reconsider his world view. Her vindication was so extreme he went back not only crying at his argument with the only woman who had affected him this much, but deep enough in self-hatred that he took a good look at his world view.

He began to re-evaluate his views of social classes, and the rights-or rather, responsibilities-of birth. And with this realisation that it wasn't all about that came the one that he had been so unjust as to severely judge Lizzie and her capabilities due to her circumstances.

And Darcy's letter left Lizzie doing much the same thing, but without the politics, just about her method.

'Til this moment, she never knew herself.

Sure, she was still really annoyed about Jane and Bing, but he did have a point. Was Bing's devotion as strong as Jane's? Contemplating the new food for thought he had so kindly supplied, she returned home for Thanksgiving, and to work on her independent study.

Needless to say, it was all a bit difficult when she was mainly preoccupied with character re-discovery, anger at Bing, and disgust with herself for being so pulled in by George.

Strangely enough, her animosity towards Darcy had pretty much disappeared, replaced with sympathy for him and his sister…and was it regret? Surely not. This idea couldn't get to Char. It was probably just at missing her chance to be friends with him. Sure, friends sounded about right. She'd go with that.

Though he was undeniably attractive.

Shut up, brain!

So, whilst Lizzie's thoughts were preoccupied with how she could forget about the total embarrassment of misjudgement, Darcy was striving to become a better person. For her. Despite the fact that she would never want to see him again, the reversal of roles was still happening-she struggling with her confusing feelings, and he trying to prove his worth, in a way he had never had to before. He supposed their acquaintance fortuitous in that he had learnt things about himself. Like that he spoke (and thought, and wrote wax-sealed letters) as if he came from a Regency novel.

Like that he still watched her videos to see her stunning, expressive, caring face.

And that he still got ridiculously excited when he learnt of her imminent closeness. Pemberley Digital closeness.

And so, when the day came, he flew out to L.A., the excitement having given way to such nervousness and sweaty palms as would have done credit to a school boy at the first sign of his crush. However, Darcy didn't anticipate the un-necessity of his visit, and the willpower of his 'crazy' sister, as Lizzie put it, when they were locked in a room upon his reluctant return to the San Francisco headquarters.

Yet they neither of them could regret their forced meeting, as it allowed them to recognise the other's attempt at adapting their misconceptions and actions. He only fell more in love with her, but only she could vouch for her own feelings.

Which were of shame, she had to admit. And a strange preoccupation with his sexy chiselled features that bordered on distraction and a fascination when his lips moved to offer her a ride home. But she turned away, looking steadfastly down, and only compromising on her desperate need to touch him, and also to reassure him of her change of feelings, at the end of their interaction when she could be sure she could retreat and cringe to her heart's content.

Needless to say, her viewers went crazy. They'd always had a strange, unfounded ship for her and Darcy.

And maybe, that was what was fuelling her little, tiny, miniscule bits of fuzzy feelings for a certain William Darcy. Lizzie Bennet had always thought herself independent, with her courage rising at every attempt to intimidate her, but she did let herself see other people's points of view, and have them influence her. She supposed it was what made her such a successful debater.

God, Darcy could make her laugh. This new side of him, brought out by both her criticisms and a place he could comfortably be himself, was amazing. Episode 83 was a favourite-camaraderie abounded, and his face, upon re-watching, when she touched his shoulder, gave her hope that she told herself she should not nurture. Their day out, and Team FiGi, would have been the things that gave her the most pleasure about SF a year ago, but now it was getting to know Darcy. And trying not to stare at those ridiculously alluring glasses.

It was perfect. Nearly…the feelings she got harked back to Hunsford-the passion, but not the negative way in which they were channelled. But she constantly was reminded of the unforgivable way in which she rejected him, and the way he played it cool around her made her think that maybe those hopes she had harboured had been unfounded, and if he had forgiven her…it was just enough to be friends. But now…she was thinking she might want more.

So imagine her surprise when he asked her out. She was beginning to think they were just mates, mucking around in the wardrobe department for the 'Corporate Interview.' She sat, shocked once more, but in a much pleasanter way.

And then the phone rang.

The next few hours were a blur. All she remembered was Darcy being a pillar of strength, doing all he could to help her out. She was so grateful, so indebted, and so guilty for how she had treated him. What an amazing man she had found. She could only hope that…maybe…after this whole mess with Lyddie was resolved.

But then the doubts crept in. His stony face as she told him the news could have been anger at himself for falling for such a girl, who was related to such an 'energetic' one. She knew him-his most unreadable expressions often meant disgust. His rapidity in getting her a flight could merely have been him trying to push her away as soon as humanly possible. She had found the man she wanted…and had lost him again.

Her –almost homesickness-nostalgia for SF recurred, but when Lydia broke down about how she thought she had torn her sister away from that life forced her to re-evaluate how much she could pine in front of her. She resolved to put it all behind her, and to focus only on Lyd. They would sit together, watching Buffy, loving Spike, hating Angel, watching Colin Firth and Bridget Jones' Diary and Clueless and Sense and Sensibility and new sitcoms like How I Met Your Mother and The Big Bang Theory. Relating to some of these characters let Lizzie know how Lydia was feeling…plus, good TV romcoms? Great way to spend sis-time, especially when Jane could join them…

The focussing helped clear her mind, but at night she still wondered what if…

The day she found out the website was down filled her with elation for her younger sister, and relief. But she hated herself for regretting the loss of her distraction, and returned to her days of moping.

The day she found out Darcy was responsible was one of the happiest days. It gave her hope. If he still watched the vlog…if he knew she knew he might call! It sounded like an episode of FRIENDS.

But when he didn't, it almost broke her heart. More moping ensued, until she slapped herself in the face-Get it together Lizzie! You're a strong, independent woman and you don't need to wait for the guy.

So she rang Darcy.

And he showed up. It was the most confusing yet incredible moment of her life. The kiss sent her soaring, and not even honey walnut shrimp could compare to him.

When Lizzie and Darcy verbalised their feelings, it suddenly became clear how deeply they cared for each other.

How deeply they loved.

How deeply they wanted to be together for the rest of their lives.

And how it was definitely going to happen.


End file.
